Let's Make it Official
by Zesty Bod
Summary: In the midst of the Tritter mess, House concocts a plan to keep himself out of jail, and he brings Cuddy along for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone. So far, my other story, "Forget Me Not," has been very well-received. I appreciate all the feedback, and I am working on the next chapter of that story. I'm posting this one too because I've found that I think better when I have two stories going on at once. My brain is weird like that. I hope you enjoy this one, and leave me a little lovin' if you're interested in reading more.**

**LET'S MAKE IT OFFICIAL**

Chapter 1

Howard Gemeiner. House didn't know what kind of name that was for a lawyer, but he didn't like it. And he didn't like the fact that Howard was charging him a small fortune to represent him in his upcoming criminal case. House never would have guessed that shoving a thermometer up a guy's ass could lead to so much trouble. Had Tritter not been such a jerk, none of this would have happened. House flatly refused to acknowledge any fault of his own for his predicament. He was just being his usual, curmudgeonly, know-it-all self. Tritter was the one who had decided to make things difficult.

House could have apologized and ended the entire mess before it spiraled out of control. Of course, his pride wouldn't let him. And since then, everything about House's life had taken a turn for the worst. Tritter had raided his stash of Vicodin and House couldn't find a damn soul to write him another prescription. He was no longer on speaking terms with his best friend because Wilson had decided it would be a good idea to rat him out. Wilson claimed it was for "his own good." Good like that, House didn't need in his life.

So in exactly one week, House had a hearing in which a judge would determine whether to proceed with the criminal charges against him or whether to let House walk. So far, the odds were stacked against him. The prosecution had Wilson, who would testify that House had forged his signature on Vicodin prescriptions. Although none of them wanted to testify against him, the prosecutor was also going to call Drs. Chase, Foreman, and Cameron: all of whom were expected to relay stories about how often House took Vicodin while he saw patients. The pharmacist on the first floor was going to be called to the stand to testify that House had signed the prescription log under a dead man's name.

And lastly, Cuddy was likely to be the final nail in House's coffin. As his boss and the only person who had any semblance of control over him, Cuddy was likely to talk about House's insubordination and his drug addiction. House's lawyer expected that Cuddy would also be forced to confirm that House had indeed swiped the medication of a dead man and then gotten high off of it.

Overall, it was pretty damning evidence.

House wasn't one to regret things, but at the moment, as he sat in Gemeiner's office and tried to come up with some kind of plan to keep himself out of jail, he was regretting that he had ever laid eyes on Tritter.

"Wilson's testimony won't be all bad," Howard said, rubbing his tired eyes and looking at the stubborn doctor across from him. "Sure, he'll have to testify that you forged his signature. But when we cross-examine, we can get him to say how much pain you're in and how you really needed those pills."

House only grunted in response. He still couldn't believe that Wilson had turned on him like that. His supposed best friend had thrown him to the sharks. Granted, Wilson's life had basically been destroyed when Tritter froze all his accounts and made his life a living hell. But still, that didn't make his betrayal any easier to swallow.

"And your team probably won't give any evidence that prosecution can use," Howard shrugged, hoping to make the best out of the situation. "So they'll say you pop your pills pretty frequently, but that's not necessarily a crime."

"How isn't it?" House asked, clearly irritated. "Wilson's already gonna give me up and say that I obtained the pills illegally."

"Yeah, but nobody can prove that the illegal pills were the ones you were taking when you saw patients," Howard reminded him. "There's no way of knowing that information. Just as long as _some_ of the pills were legit and you were able to function when you saw patients, you should be okay."

"What about the pharmacist? His testimony will make me look even worse," House groaned. What the hell was he thinking when he signed that log? He should have known better. All Tritter had to do was shake down the pharmacist a little bit and the jig was up.

"It's circumstantial," Howard told him. "He might have seen you sign the log, but as long as he didn't see you take the pills, then there's room for doubt."

"What about Cuddy?" House asked, looking at the top of his cane. For some reason, having Cuddy testify against him felt like the worst betrayal of all. The two of them fought and argued and played their game of one-upmanship on a regular basis. But he couldn't believe that Cuddy would actually be the one to send him up the river. Who would be there to annoy the hell out of her if he was in prison? Whose blouse would he obnoxiously stare down if he were in prison? Certainly not his fellow inmates. The thought made him cringe.

"Cuddy," Howard sighed, as if he realized that House's guilt and innocence all hinged on what Cuddy said. "The prosecution is going to screw you with Cuddy."

"It's ironic…the one time I don't want to be screwed by Cuddy," House mused, hoping to make himself feel better with a joke. Howard didn't look amused.

"They'll bring out everything you've ever done at the hospital," he said, standing up from his desk. "Your incident reports, the way you ran off a $100-million-dollar donation to the hospital, your frequent fights with your boss. And after they're done making you look like an asshole, they'll nail you to the wall when Cuddy confirms that you did swipe that guy's medicine."

"Gee, you make me feel so uplifted," House said sarcastically. "Remind me why I'm paying you an arm and a leg just to tell me shit I already know?"

"I'm trying to help you. But you have to help yourself, too. Isn't there anybody who can testify to your good qualities, if you have any?"

House rolled his eyes at the insinuation and rested his chin on the top of his cane. Trying to come up with a person who could testify to his good qualities was going to be a lost cause. It was probably more effective to think of ways to keep people from testifying to his exhaustive list of bad qualities.

"Look," Howard sighed. "It's late. Maybe we if both sleep on it, we'll come up with some ideas tomorrow."

"Yeah," House nodded, grimacing as he stood up and leaned on his cane. The pain would have been unbearable, but he'd found a hidden bottle of Vicodin under a floor board in his apartment. He pulled out the bottle and popped two pills into his mouth, and Howard stared at him like he was an idiot.

"You didn't just do that," he told him.

"What?" House shrugged. "Lawyer-client privilege. You can't tell on me."

"No," Howard sighed, "but the way Tritter's been stalking you, I wouldn't be surprised if he was waiting outside the building, ready to frisk you. At least don't be dumb enough to carry the damn drugs around with you."

House ignored him and limped out of the room, his pills safely tucked into his jacket. He made his way to his motorcycle, discreetly looking around to make sure that he didn't see Tritter. The guy was like Mary's little lamb: everywhere House went, Tritter was sure to go. He chuckled to himself at his clever joke and then rode off into the night. When he got home, he poured himself a glass of Scotch and sat the piano, tickling the keys as his mind wondered.

He had never been in such a bad situation. Sure, there were times that he'd gotten close to losing his medical license and he'd been sued on a few occasions. But those incidences were nothing compared to the prospect of jail…the prospect of big, hairy men looking for a new target. House grimaced. He was smart but he was not agile. Any jailbird looking for a new piece of ass would surely have an easy target in House.

So for three hours, he sat the piano, simply thinking. He ran over the facts of his case in his head until they were starting to give him a headache. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he came up with some kind of solution. The judge didn't need much evidence or reason to push his case forward into felony court. Even if Howard could convince the court that Wilson's, the pharmacist's, and the team's testimony were not enough to send House to jail, Cuddy's testimony probably would be. She could single-handedly undo him, if the prosecution asked the right questions.

House needed a plan to keep Cuddy off that witness stand. He already knew that she wouldn't lie for him because he had already asked her, and she flatly said 'no.' He wanted to be angry for her lack of loyalty, but the truth was that she was right. It wasn't fair to ask her to perjure herself and possibly lose her career and go to jail, all for him. He wasn't even nice to her. He couldn't very well expect her to make such a sacrifice for him.

But still, he had to do something. He looked down at the piano keys and played a slow melody, wailing his blues through the instrument. He stopped playing when an idea struck him. He thought about all the secrets that he had kept for his patients over the years: secrets that could have sent some of them to jail. He had often defended his decision to not report something to Cuddy by claiming the doctor-patient privilege. House jumped up from the piano stool and walked to his laptop, searching for more information about the legal ramifications of the privilege. Maybe if he could convince the court that he and Cuddy shared a doctor-patient privileged relationship, then he could keep her off the stand.

House searched some preliminary information and was disappointed to realize that his idea wasn't likely to pan out. The doctor-patient privilege kept some things out of the courtroom, but only those things that were discussed in the context of making a diagnosis. Clearly, that wouldn't keep out any of the information that the prosecution planned to bring out about House.

He sighed and almost gave up, when his eyes scanned the rest of the website where he was looking up privileges allowed in federal court. He narrowed his eyes when he read the title "Familial Privileges." House navigated down the page and scanned the sections under "Spousal Testimonial Privilege" and "Marital Confidences Privilege." He read the law about whether or not spouses could testify against one another, and if they could, what kind of information was allowed. The smile on his face started slowly, and then became a grin. He truly was a genius.

House put his computer away and limped toward the counter, where he had thrown his wallet and keys. He dumped out the contents of his wallet, scouring them for a manila business card. He grinned when he found exactly what he was looking for.

_Robert "Bob" Weston_

_Family Law Attorney_

_Weston, Pinks, & Marshall, LLC_

_Atlantic City, New Jersey_

_(609) 555-6573_

House quickly flipped the card over and saw the scribbled cell phone number that Bob had written down. After his visit to House's office, he'd promised that House every needed "anything," that he should call. House was ready to cash in on that favor. He called the cell phone number and it rang about seven times before a sleepy voice answered.

"Who the hell is calling me this late?" the gruff voice answered.

"Bob," House said, with an irritatingly happy voice. "This is Dr. House from Princeton-Plainsboro. You remember me?"

There was a pause and Bob cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, Doctor House," he said, obviously more awake. "Um, what can I do for you?"

"It's time for me to cash in on that favor."

…

Cuddy sat on her bed, her laptop between her legs and a cup of coffee in her hand. Her thin glasses were perched on her nose and even though she was exhausted and the words on the screen were starting to jumble together, she kept reading. She had a very important meeting in the morning, with a potential donor who was waiving a $50-million check in the hospital's face. Cuddy should have been excited. That excitement was hampered by the thoughts of how the last big-shot donor went, though. House had all but run Volgar out of town…him and his $100 million.

She groaned and resolved not to think about House, even though that seemed to be all she was doing lately. With his hearing coming up, how could she think of anything else? The prosecutor had made it clear to her, in between his pathetic attempts at flirting, that he planned to use her testimony to send House straight to the slammer. Cuddy couldn't have felt guiltier if she tried. She didn't want House in jail and she certainly didn't want to be the reason for his imprisonment. If that idiot that just apologized to Tritter like she'd asked, none of them would have to be such a precarious situation.

She sighed and put her coffee mug down and scrolled through her proposal. It was late and she needed some sleep if she didn't want to look like a tired hag in the morning. Surely, bags under her eyes would not impress the potential donor.

"Cuddy," a voice said from the window, and she jumped nearly ten feet off the bed. Her heart raced immediately and once she put her hand over her chest and saw those familiar, lurking blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the window, she breathed a sigh of relief. That relief quickly melted into anger when she looked at the clock. House had no understanding of her personal time or space. To him, she was on-call for him, 24 hours a day and seven days a week. She groaned and tossed her legs over her laptop and climbed off the bed. She didn't bother to put on a robe to cover up her small nightie.

"What the hell are you doing here so late?" she asked, after she opened the window and glared at him. House smiled, his eyes zeroing in on her breasts.

"Damn, your breasts are huge!" he said like an excited prepubescent boy.

"What do you want?" Cuddy groaned, folding her arms over her chest.

"I need a favor."

"No," she said dryly, walking away for the window. She knew that House wouldn't actually try to climb into her window, and he frowned as she walked away.

"Hey!" he called to her, sticking his arm inside like he was threatening to pull himself in. "You owe me! Seeing as how you're about to send me to prison and all."

"I don't want to," she said honestly, pulling her robe on and padding back to him. "You know I feel horrible about this."

"Yeah, I can see the guilt smacked across your face. Don't you want to do me one last favor before the boys in the jail take advantage of my succulent ass?"

"Ha," Cuddy laughed in spite of herself. She hadn't seen House's ass lately, but she wasn't sure that "succulent" was the right terminology. "What?" she asked, planting her hands on the window sill and staring down at him. House actually seemed to hesitate for a minute before blurting out his ridiculous request.

"Marry me."

Cuddy stared at him and then burst into laughter. House was annoyed that she found his request so amusing, even though he did take the time to nice how much he loved the sound of her laughter. It was deep but feminine, and her laughs always seemed to come right from the pit of her stomach. But now wasn't the time for that.

"It's not that funny," he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Yeah, it is," she assured him. "Are you high? How many Vicodin did you take before you came over here?"

"I'm serious. I need you to marry me." House rolled his eyes upwards and nodded his head from side to side. "Well, technically, I need you to act like you've been married to me for the past year."

Cuddy looked at him and realized that he was serious, and her expression turned stoic. "House, what the hell?"

"It's the only way I can keep you off the witness stand and in turn, keep my ass out of Butt Rape Central. Marital immunity would keep you from testifying."

"You're serious," Cuddy said, still trying to wrap her mind around his preposterous request. House nodded his head and gave her expression that read 'duh.' "You must be insane if you think I'm actually going to marry you…"

"Pretend to marry me," he corrected.

"Whatever. The answer is no."

She started to walk away and House attempted and failed to climb through her window. "I called this lawyer who owes me a favor. I neglected to tell his wife that he had contracted a few diseases from ladies of ill repute and he promised to pay me back. I called him up and he's drawing up a marriage certificate dated for three years ago."

"Do you hear yourself?!" Cuddy asked, wondering if House really was stoned out of his mind. "You want me to pretend to be your wife! We can barely stand each other!"

"We don't have to actually _be_ married," House sighed, like she was the unreasonable one. "We just have to show the certificate to the judge and then you don't have to take the stand. I stay out of jail, you keep your best doctor, everybody wins."

"No, everybody does not win," she said, looking at him like he was certifiable. "What about Tritter? Don't you think he'll find it odd that you and I just up and decided to share the news of our wedded bliss with the world, conveniently as you are about to have the book thrown at you?"

"So we'll pretend to be married for a few weeks," House shrugged, like it was no big deal. "He'll get bored, and then you and I can go back to our own lives."

"This is ridiculous. No." Cuddy slammed the window closed and shut the curtains, wondering what in the world went on in House's head. She climbed back into bed, intent to return to her work. After five minutes of silence, she was pleasantly surprised that it seemed that House had given up. So she was quite shocked when her bedroom door swung open and there he was. Again, Cuddy jumped in surprise.

"Shit!" she said, grabbing her heart again. "Are you trying to scare me to death? How the hell did you get in here?"

"I stole your key and made a copy," he said nonchalantly, making his way over to her bed. Cuddy wanted to question why, how, when…but she thought better of it. She didn't even know why she thought there was any point in trying to figure out the rhyme and reason of House's crazy mind.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suddenly very tired. House swiped all her stuff of her bed and made himself comfortable.

"I need you to do this for me," he said seriously, staring straight up at the ceiling. Cuddy noted the serious, almost frightened tone in his voice. House didn't get scared, and on the rare occasions that he did, he did his damndest to hide it. "I know I'm asking a lot from you, Cuddy. Too much."

She was completely shocked at his confession, but not surprised that he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes as he spoke. He was vulnerable, and he didn't want her to see it.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do," House continued, his icy blue eyes still glued to the ceiling. "You want to give me clinic hours for the rest of my life, I swear I'll do it. Just…" House finally looked at her and he paused for a long second. Cuddy knew it was extremely difficult for him to ask for her help, especially for something as serious as this. She waited, and House looked down at his hands. "Please."

Cuddy lay on her back, next to him, and neither of them spoke for several minutes. The tension and seriousness of the situation hung over them, and House had never felt more exposed in his whole life. The fact of the matter was that he needed Cuddy. If she couldn't help him, he was certain to be spending the next few years of his life in prison.

"I'll do it," she said very lowly, her soft voice breaking the silence. House closed his eyes and released a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. He felt Cuddy's head shift in his direction, so he craned his neck to look at her. "On two conditions."

"Okay," he nodded.

"First, you _will_ have clinic duty, four hours a day, every day for a year," she said in that administrative tone. "The only time you can get out of it is if you have a case."

House wanted to grimace or make some smart-alec response, but he knew that he was at Cuddy's mercy. So as much as he didn't want to be in the clinic with those idiots, he nodded.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Second condition?"

Cuddy observed him and pursed her lips because she knew he would throw a fit over her second requirement. But with the humungous favor that she was doing him, he would just have to deal with it.

"Detox," she said, staring him right in the eyes.

Predictably, House groaned and shook his head. "I've tried that…it doesn't work."

"You didn't try, and it _can_ work if you let it."

"Cuddy," he started to whine, but she stopped him with that no-nonsense glare that she had perfected.

"Believe it or not, there are some people on this Earth who give a damn about you," she said, never taking her eyes off of him. "The fact that I'm even _considering_ this completely illegal and absolutely stupid plan of yours should be evident that I am one of those foolhardy people." She took a breath and noted that he had remained silent. "I want you off of that Vicodin, House. If I'm going to go through with this plan, I have to know that at least you'll be around later to enjoy the freedom of not being in prison."

House wanted to yell and scream and tell her that he didn't need detox. He wanted to tell her that she had any no idea what kind of pain he was in on a regular basis. He wanted to call her stupid and all other kinds of things, but he bit his tongue. Somewhere, deep down, he knew that she was right. He was asking her to save his life, basically. The least he could do was try to make that life worth something.

"Okay," he said quietly. Cuddy was clearly shocked at his response because her eyebrows rose.

"Okay?" she asked, making sure she heard correctly.

"Are you deaf?" he asked with a frown.

Cuddy didn't hide her smile. House could act agitated all he wanted, but she was happy. She wanted him to get better and stop being so miserable, and she was certain that kicking his Vicodin habit was the first step to that goal.

"Good. I guess we'll work out the details of how we'll spin this web of lies tomorrow."

House gave a short nod, and then he folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. Cuddy frowned.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"It's late," he said, giving her another 'duh' expression. "Sleepy time."

"Out," she said simply, pointing to the door.

"But Moooom," he whined. "You promised me some breast milk."

Cuddy barely contained her laughter and she shoved him until he was off her bed. She tossed him a pillow. "If you must stay, you can have the couch."

"You do realize that when we're married, you'll have to share the bed with me." House wiggled his eyebrows and Cuddy groaned.

"Don't push your luck."

House tucked the pillow underneath his arm and made his way to the door. He turned off the light and without looking back, he muttered a quiet, "thank you." Cuddy heard it and smiled to herself. She didn't know what she was getting into, but she just hoped that she wasn't making a huge mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviews! I think this is going to be a fun story...plenty of possibilities! Keep the reviews coming, and I'll keep writing.**

Chapter 2

Cuddy twisted the silver band around her left ring finger and nervously chewed on her lip. She could not believe that she had let House talk her into something so blatantly wrong and illegal. His lawyer friend had come through with a marriage certificate and he had taken care of all the legalities to make it seem like House and Cuddy had really been married for over a year. Sometimes it amazed her how far House would go just to get his way. Granted, staying out of prison was probably a good reason to lie, but still. If they were ever found out, both of them were getting hauled off in the paddy wagon.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Cuddy said in a low voice as House pulled his car up to the courthouse. He looked remarkably unaffected, happy even. That didn't surprise her. House always got off on her misery.

"Just remember, you're getting a year's worth of complaint-free clinic duty and you're forcing me into detox." He stopped the car and then gave her a wry grin. "Not to mention, you'll have the pleasure of having me as your husband."

"Gee, the benefits are boundless," Cuddy replied sarcastically.

She and House got out of the car and she walked next to him as he limped to the front door. Surprisingly, he opened the door for her. Cuddy looked at him strangely and he rolled his eyes.

"I can't have everyone thinking I'm an inconsiderate husband, now, can I?"

House's lawyer saw them coming in and he approached them, with a pensive look in his eyes.

"Dr. Cuddy," he said lowly, noting that both of them wore rings. "Or should I say, Dr. Cuddy-House?"

"Ew, no," she said immediately, with a frown. House gave her a firm smack on the ass and she yelped. She looked at him like she would murder him, but he only smiled.

"Now, honey, you know we talked about you changing your name to just House. Lisa House. Sounds nice, don't you think?"

"Don't make me kill you," Cuddy told him in a low, dangerous voice.

"Look, if there's something here that I shouldn't know about, keep it to yourself." Howard spoke up. "Lawyer-client privilege doesn't extend to crimes, like, oh I don't know…falsifying a marriage certificate and perjury."

"It's real," Cuddy said, albeit through her teeth. "We just argue like this because that's how we are."

"Foreplay," House wiggled his eyebrows at Howard, and he smacked Cuddy's ass again. She rolled her eyes and Howard held up his hands.

"I don't want to know. Seriously. Anyway, the hearing is about to start. Wilson and your team are up first. Then the pharmacist guy. The prosecution is saving Cuddy for last to be dramatic."

"And that's when we hit them with the fake-out of the century," House said with that annoying grin. He was really was proud of himself for having concocted such a plan. And Cuddy still couldn't figure out why in the hell she had gone along with it. There were so many reasons to back out, but she was sticking by him.

"Just let me do all the talking, House," Howard pleaded. "I know you like to stand up and say whatever the hell is on your mind, but we're doing this my way. Got it?"

"Yes, massah," House grinned, causing both Howard and Cuddy to groan. The three of them walked into the courtroom, where everybody else was already waiting. As they walked down the rows of seats to the defense table, House barely nodded in acknowledgment to his team and he flat-out refused to even look at Wilson. That turncoat. He vowed that he would never talk to Wilson again as long as he lived.

Cuddy took a seat right behind the defense table, gathering her thoughts and trying to convince herself that she hadn't gone completely crazy. Everyone only had to wait a few minutes before the judge appeared. She was a young, attractive, African-American woman who looked like she didn't take any nonsense. Cuddy gulped. Convincing the judge that she and House had been married for a year might prove more difficult than just presenting a piece of paper.

"All rise, Judge Hammon presiding."

Everyone stood and as soon as Judge Hammon sat down, she motioned for everyone else to sit down as well.

"Good morning," she said formally, flipping through some pages on her bench. "State versus Gregory House. This is a preliminary hearing to decide if the charges against Dr. House should stand. Is that correct?"

"Yes, your Honor," Howard said, standing up and adjusting his suit jacket. "The defense moves for summary judgment on this matter, seeing as there is no issue at fact. It is well-known that Dr. House suffered a very painful procedure on his leg and is forced to take pain relievers for the excruciating sensations in his thigh. Dr. House…"

"Is a drug addict," the prosecutor interrupted. He was a young, arrogant kid who had probably been told too many times that he was the next Johnny Cochran. "Your Honor, Dr. House pops pills like normal people breathe, a fact that his own employees and boss will attest to today. He's high when he sees his patients."

"That's not true," Howard said calmly. "He's neutral when he sees his patients. The pain that Dr. House endures every day is worse than you could probably imagine."

"I can imagine a lot, counselor," the judge said skeptically.

"A piece of his leg is missing, your Honor," Howard said, defending his client. "His doctors, including his boss, have told him that he'll deal with this pain every day for the rest of his life. He needs to take painkillers in order to be able to function."

"The telltale sign of addiction," the prosecution said with a cocky laugh.

"Do you find something funny about addiction?" Judge Hammon asked, and the young kid immediately stopped smiling. "Mr. Yonker," she said to the prosecutor, "Call your first witness."

Yonker called Tritter as his first witness. Tritter was more than happy to testify about what a jerk House had been to him when he visited him at the clinic. He went on to talk about how unstable House had seemed, and he spoke about uncovering mountains of pills at House's apartment. Howard did his best on cross-examination to make Tritter slip up, but the cop didn't go back on his word at all.

Next, the prosecution called Wilson. House looked down at his hands the whole time Wilson talked.

"So, Dr. Wilson, you are saying that Dr. House forged your signature on at least _some_ of those prescriptions?"

"Yes," Wilson said, obviously uncomfortable.

"Your witness, counselor," Yonker said with that arrogant smirk again. Cuddy wanted to slap him.

"Dr. Wilson, isn't it true that you consider Dr. House your best friend?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"So why are you testifying against him today?"

"Because I want him to get help for his pain and his addiction," Wilson said earnestly. He stared at House, hoping he would look in his direction, but House kept his head down. "Your Honor," Wilson said, looking to the judge. "House does have a problem. But if you felt anything even half as bad as he feels on a regular basis, every day all day, you would be addicted to painkillers too. House is a great doctor, though, and sending him to prison won't solve anything."

Howard smiled, happy with Wilson's testimony. The three team members were next, all three of whom gave short, useless, vague answers to the prosecution. The pharmacist could only confirm that House had signed the log but not that he had actually taken the medicine. So last but not least, Mr. Yonker stood.

"At this point, your Honor, we'd like to call Dr. Lisa Cuddy to the stand."

Howard stood up and had to fight back a smile at the bomb he was about to drop on everyone in the courtroom.

"The defense objects to Dr. Cuddy being called as a witness, your Honor."

"Why is that, counselor?" the judge asked, her interest piqued.

"Because Dr. House and Dr. Cuddy enjoy a privilege that would keep her off the stand."

"Doctor-patient privilege doesn't keep her being a witness," Yonker said with a scoff, like he thought Howard was incompetent.

"No, but marital privilege does."

There was a collective gasp behind Cuddy, and she knew that was it. There was no turning back once Howard went up there and handed that marriage certificate to Judge Hammon.

"What?" Yonker asked, like he just had the wool pulled over his eyes.

"Dr. House and Dr. Cuddy have been married for over a year," Howard said as he approached the bench. Cuddy could almost hear everyone behind her having heart attacks: most of all Wilson and Cameron. Mr. Yonker rushed to the bench and held his hand out for the marriage certificate. After Judge Hammon was finished looking at it, she handed it to him.

"This is bullshit," he said lowly, so only the judge and Howard could hear him. "We've never heard anything about this."

"In my chambers," Judge Hammon said. She stood up and looked at Cuddy and then Tritter. "You two as well."

Cuddy got up, feeling the eyes of her colleagues and employees behind her, as she walked alongside House. Howard, Yonker, House, Cuddy, Judge Hammon, and Tritter went back to the judge's chambers and as soon as the door was closed, Tritter pointed at House and scowled.

"This is a farce," he accused. "I don't know what you did or how, but you and I both know that you are not married to Dr. Cuddy."

"Paper says I am, Boss," House said with a smug smile.

"Your Honor," Yonker started, but Judge Hammon held up her hand and sat down behind her desk. "Everybody shut up. Give me the paper."

Yonker handed over the marriage certificate and inspected it. It was definitely real, with the New Jersey seal on it and everything. Everything about it looked genuine, and Judge Hammon took off her glasses and looked at Cuddy.

"Dr. Cuddy," she said. "Is this real?"

Cuddy put on her best administrative face and nodded. "Yes, it is," she answered honestly.

"Why haven't we heard anything about this marriage before today?"

Cuddy was always good at thinking on her feet, something that keep her on top of her game. "Well, House and I have known each other for a long time." She figured the best strategy was to start with the truth and mix some lies in later so that it all seemed like the truth. "And given my position as Dean of Medicine and House's position as the head of Diagnostics, we thought it might be better to keep our personal relationship under wraps. Given House's reputation, there are some people who already think that I let him get away with too much. We didn't want people to know that we're married and think that I've been giving him special treatment all this time."

Judge Hammon narrowed her eyes but then nodded and looked at Mr. Yonker. "Sounds reasonable," she shrugged.

"Oh, come on, Judge," Yonker frowned. "This is crap! They pulled this little stunt to keep House's ass out of the fire. You _know_ that's not real."

"The certificate is authentic," Hammon said with a shrug.

"She's only doing this because she's got a thing for him," Tritter said, pointing at Cuddy. Hammon smiled.

"Well yes, she must have quite a thing for him if she's his wife."

House grinned at Tritter and put his arm around Cuddy. "And she's wicked hot," he added.

Cuddy consciously fought the urge to kick House in his bad leg, but she put on a smile.

"They argue all the time!" Tritter said. "I've seen it. They get along like oil and water."

"That's just me and Cuddy," House shrugged. "Anyone who knows us will tell you that's how we operate. It makes for really good angry sex."

"Shut up," Cuddy told him lowly.

Judge Hammon noted the interaction between them and she made up her mind. "She won't testify. I'm dismissing the case."

"WHAT?" Yonker nearly yelled. "This is outrageous! I'll….I'll…"

"You'll what?" she asked, like she was bored with him. "You can't appeal. The case is dismissed."

House smiled triumphantly and Cuddy felt a wave of relief overcome her. Despite Tritter's and Yonker's appeals to the judge, she scooted them all back to the courtroom. After she was at her bench, she addressed everyone in the courtroom.

"Due to recent developments," she began. "And due to my own understanding of all the testimony given today, this case is dismissed." Judge Hammon looked at House. "Dr. House, I would suggest that you take the advice of your friends and your wife and seek some help for your drug problem. I would hate to see you in this situation again."

House simply nodded, deciding for once to keep his comments and wise cracks to himself. The judge nodded at him and banged her gavel. House stood and offered his hand to Howard for a job well done, and he turned around and winked at Cuddy. She scowled at him.

"Let's go home and consummate our love," he said lowly, leaning over the bench to her.

"You have hands. You can consummate your own love," she told him return. House smiled and he walked around the table and to where Cuddy was. They tried to leave, but they were rushed by the team and Wilson.

"Oh my God," Cameron said, still clearly shocked at the idea that the man she secretly still loved was married to their boss. "Is this real?" she whispered.

"I've got a ring on, don't I?" he asked sarcastically, putting his hand on Cuddy's back as he tried to usher her out of the courtroom.

"This whole time?" Cameron asked, like she had been betrayed. House rolled his eyes and he and Cuddy began to walk, but Wilson ran in front of them.

"You guys must be joking, right?" he asked. "How could you not tell me?"

"Wilson," Cuddy started, but House interrupted.

"Don't talk to him," he said harshly. He glared at Wilson. "Anything you say probably will be used against you."

"House…"

"Traitor," House told him, and once again he tried to push himself and Cuddy out. They walked briskly out to his car, but before they could get inside, Tritter ran out to them.

"This isn't over, House," he said seriously, getting right in House's face. "I know this is a trick. And once I find out how you did this, you'll both be in jail."

House started him and then made a face. "You need a breath mint."

He disappeared into his car and peeled off, leaving a very confused group of people in his wake.

"That went well," he said cheerily.

Cuddy closed her eyes and sighed. She was in it now. There was no turning back. She had no idea what this would do to her job or her reputation. Of course, the Board couldn't fire her for being married to House, but surely they would be watching both of them much more closely. And aside from the politics at the hospital, being "married" to House would ruin what semblance of a social life she had. For some reason, she hadn't thought of all that in her haste to help House. But now it was hanging over her head like a cloud.

"Cuddy," House said after she had been quiet for ten minutes.

"I need a drink," she finally said.

"Great. Me too. And I know just the place."

Cuddy barely paid attention to where he was going until they ended up outside his apartment. She didn't bother to ask why he had driven them there, and she blindly followed him into his place. She put her purse on his counter and then plopped down on his couch. House grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured two glasses. He sat on the couch next to Cuddy and handed her a glass.

"Thanks," she said tiredly. He nodded and they drank in silence for a minute, before she spoke up again. "We need some ground rules."

"No sex at the hospital," House groaned. "I already know."

"No sex, period," Cuddy corrected him with a dry voice. "I'm not _really_ your wife, you know."

"You weren't _really_ my wife when you opened those silken thighs for me at Michigan. What's your point?"

Cuddy ignored him completely. "You can't tell anybody that this is fake. Not your team and not even Wilson."

"Obviously not Wilson," House grumbled. "He can't be trusted."

"He was only trying to help you," Cuddy defended him.

"Well with help like that, who needs Tritter?"

"You have to at least try to behave at the hospital. With this new…development…the Board will definitely be breathing down my neck to stay on your ass."

"I can't make any promises," House told her.

"House," Cuddy said. She closed her eyes and he could see her grit her teeth. "I just saved your ass. The least you could do is try not to ruin my career. Is that too much to ask?"

When House said nothing, she knew that was his way of saying that he understood.

"Tritter is going to be watching us, at least for a little while," House said after a few minutes. "We probably need to stay at one place."

"Mine," Cuddy said.

"Why not mine?" he frowned.

"Because I have a house and you have an apartment."

"And…?"

"And for those times that we don't want to be in each other's faces, which I'm guessing will be all the time, I have more space to hide." Cuddy looked at him and House nodded.

"True. But what about my piano?"

"I don't care," Cuddy shrugged tiredly. She looked into his vivid blue eyes. "Do you have any rules?"

"I have to see you naked at least once a week."

"Try again," she said, with a small smile. House knew as much as she complained about his crude comments, she didn't hate them like she wanted him and everyone else to believe.

"No rules, Cuddy. Unlike you, I can just go with the flow. I don't have to micromanage every single thing in my life."

"Which is why I'm the boss and you're not."

She finished off her scotch and stood up. "Take me home."

"Yes, mistress," he groaned.

House drove her home and even got out and walked her to the door. Cuddy opened the door and then turned and looked at him.

"You can move in tomorrow. I want one more night of sanity before you ruin my life."

House smiled and when she turned around, he planted a hard smack on her butt. Cuddy jumped but didn't give him the satisfaction of turning around. She slammed the door shut and House smiled brightly and nodded to himself.

"I think I'm going to like this."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cuddy pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, turned off her car, and sat silently for a few minutes. She sipped her coffee and looked at the double doors that would lead her right to her office, but past the nurses' station and the clinic. She knew that the news of her "marriage" to House would have spread like wildfire overnight, and she was not looking forward to the whispers and rumors that would surely be swirling around the entire hospital. She was also not looking forward to the emergency board meeting that she had called to confirm that she and House were married. Cuddy rolled her eyes to herself and groaned. Why hadn't she thought this out a little better? There were so many disadvantages to playing this little game with House, with so few advantages.

But rather than sit in her car all day and analyze herself, Cuddy gathered up her strength and walked into the hospital. Sure enough, as soon as she stepped a designer-shoe-covered foot into the door, the nurses all stared and then buzzed around each other with gossip. Cuddy plastered a fake smile on her face and walked briskly to her office, where she disappeared into grateful solitude. She went to her desk, determined not to be distracted by the hailstorm that would descend upon her throughout the day. For the first thirty minutes, she was fine. And then the door burst open and an irate-looking Wilson barged inside.

"Good morning to you too," she said dryly.

"Cuddy, is this serious or not?" Wilson asked, looking horribly upset that his two best friends had kept such a secret from him.

"Wilson, please don't start this morning," Cuddy begged. "I'm already going to have to deal with whatever ramifications being married to that idiot might bring, and I have to deal with the board in an hour."

"I just can't believe this!" he said, throwing his hands up. "You two act like you can't stand each other, but that was obviously a lie. And even if you do have some kind of feelings for each other, enough to get married, I would think that you could at least tell _me_."

"That didn't turn out too well for House, now did it?" Cuddy asked, even though she hated to throw Wilson's betrayal into his face. She knew that he was only doing it because he thought it would help House, but still.

"That just happened a couple of weeks ago. You and House have apparently been married for a year. And you never thought to tell your buddy James about it? How is this even possible? You went on a date with me! House has been sleeping with hookers! You went out with other guys. How could you have been married?"

Cuddy sighed and leaned back into her chair. "We have an open arrangement," she said dryly.

"You would never agree to something like that," Wilson accused, pointing his finger at her. "House, maybe. But not you. What's really going on here?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. She really wanted to tell him because she had to let someone in on her secret. But House would hit the roof if he knew that she'd told Wilson because he hadn't regained House's trust yet.

"I have work to do," she told him quietly, but giving him an apologetic look. Wilson nodded his head slowly.

"I guess I don't know you guys like I thought I did."

"I guess not," she grumbled.

Wilson stormed out of the office, even more furious than when he'd come in, and Cuddy blew out a breath of frustration. If Wilson was any indication, the board meeting was going to be a doozy.

…

When House entered the hospital, he was smiling and whistling. He greeted the nurses and then pointed to Cuddy's office.

"Just in case you hadn't heard, I'm totally banging that."

He grinned at their expressions and made his way to the elevator. He continued to whistle happily as he rode up to his floor.

"Good morning, minions," he said to his team as he walked into the conference room. All three of them looked at him like he was some strange creature, and House shrugged. "Isn't it a good morning?"

"What the hell is up with you and Cuddy?" Cameron asked, with a little edge to her voice. "There's no way you guys have really been married."

"Yeah, she hates you," Chase agreed.

"Well as the great philosophers, the Pretenders, once said…it's a thin line between love and hate." House walked over to the counter and began to pour himself some coffee.

"Well, I for one, am happy," Foreman said. "If getting some from Cuddy will keep you in a good mood, then she needs to spread 'em more often."

House smiled and Chase laughed, but Cameron saw nothing funny about the situation. She had still been holding out a teeny bit of hope that House would love her. She knew that he was capable of it from his interaction with Stacy. He wasn't totally soulless and if he could just see that Cameron would love him no matter what, then they would have their chance. But then the news about his marriage to Cuddy had soiled her plot.

"Oh, Cuddy spreads 'em plenty," House said with a devilish grin.

"Is that so?" a familiar, angry, female voice said behind them. Everybody turned around to see Cuddy standing in the doorway, her arms folded, and that classic "I'm very annoyed with House" look on her face.

"Hi, honey," House smiled.

"Cut the crap, House. I need to talk to you."

"No nookie at work. That was your rule," he teased.

Cuddy gritted her teeth and marched over to him, her heels stomping against the carpet. She yanked on House's arm and almost made him fall over as she dragged him to his office.

"Ow, ow, stop hurting me," he whined. Cuddy continued to pull on him and House turned back to his team and smiled.

"She likes it rough like this," he said, right before she tossed him into the office and slammed the door behind them.

"How in the world could they be married?" Cameron asked, wondering if she was the only one who saw something weird with the arrangement.

"This is fun to them," Foreman shrugged. "Plus, who cares? House is still going to be House, and Cuddy will still be Cuddy. As long as their fighting doesn't ruin my career, I couldn't care less if they're banging like rabid bunnies."

Meanwhile, in the office, House hobbled into his chair and Cuddy glared at him.

"I just got out of my board meeting," she informed him.

"And? Did anybody buy us any belated wedding gifts?"

"House," Cuddy sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "This isn't a joke."

"Oh, calm down. They can't fire you."

"No, but they can look a little harder over my shoulder and give you a much harder time for all the crazy shit you try to pull. Before this whole arrangement, people just assumed that I was letting you do whatever you want because I trusted you. Now they think I'm doing you favors because we're sleeping together."

"Actually, people always assumed we were sleeping together," House informed her matter-of-factly. "I've been grinding that rumor mill for years."

"Look, I did you a favor," Cuddy said lowly, planting her hands on his desk and leaning into him. "Now do me one and treat me like I'm your damn boss. I don't want to have to deal with answering to someone else every time you screw up, so don't screw up."

"I'll try not to, mistress." House's eyes traveled to her chest and he pointed. "Could I get a better view of those tonight? One that's a little less obstructed by your clothing?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes and left without saying another word to him.

…

The hospital was quiet as Cuddy sat behind her desk and finished off some paperwork. Her eyes were hurting and her hand was tired from all the signatures she had scribbled in the last few hours. She checked the clock and sighed when she saw that it was past eleven. She was stalling, and she knew it. Cuddy knew that House would be in her home when she got there, never mind the fact that she had never given him a key. He had already proven himself resourceful enough to break into her home without her permission. She sighed and put her pen down, realizing that she would have to go home at some point. She could only imagine what kind of mess House had already made.

She turned off the lamp and grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Maybe there was a slim chance that he was asleep and she would get through the night without having to be bothered. She drove home, enjoying her last minutes of quiet time, and when she got to her house, she was quite surprised that nothing was in disarray. The living room was neat, as was the kitchen. Cuddy frowned. House's bike was outside so she knew he was there.

"House," she called out. He didn't answer and Cuddy stopped in her tracks when she saw a note on the oven.

_Eat me._

Cuddy didn't know if that was some crude way of House asking for sex, but when she opened the oven, she was happy to find one of her all-time favorites waiting for her, keeping warm in the oven. It was vegetable lasagna from a little Italian place not too far from her house, as well as some of the restaurant's award-winning breadsticks. Cuddy couldn't stop the smile that came over her face. Sometimes, House could do the sweetest things. He probably knew that she hadn't eaten all day and to surprise her with her favorite was just downright…romantic.

Cuddy shook that thought from her head and she pulled out the lasagna and fixed herself a plate. She sat down in the living room and watched TV while she ate, and she assumed that since she hadn't heard a peep out of House that he must have been asleep. So much the better. She put her dishes away and turned off the lights and headed up to her room. The sweet feelings that she was experiencing for House evaporated when she walked into her bedroom and found him lounging comfortably on her bed, in just a T-shirt and some pajama pants.

"Honey, you're home," he said, not pulling his eyes away from the monster truck show on TV. Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him and then realized that she didn't usually have a TV in her bedroom. She recognized it as the one that House usually kept at his place.

"Why is there a TV in here?"

"I like to have it on when I go to sleep," he said with a "duh" face.

"Okay, better question: why are you in here?"

"Because my leg won't let me sleep on the couch," House said, again looking at her like she was stupid for asking such a thing.

"House, get out," Cuddy told him dryly. She pulled out a nightie and walked into her bathroom. "By the time I get back in here, you need to have removed yourself and gone to the guest bedroom. I already made it up for you."

She shut the door behind her and changed out of her work clothes. She slipped on the nightie, brushed her teeth, and cleared her face of any makeup. She was ready to go to bed, but when she went back to her bedroom, House was still there.

"What did I just tell you?"

"Husbands and wives sleep together, Cuddy," House reminded her with a sinister grin. He patted the spot next to him. "Come over here and take off that gown thing."

"No!" she said, laughing at the ridiculousness of his actions. "Look, the lasagna was sweet but if you did that just to butter me up so you could sleep with me…"

"I did it because you were upset earlier. And when you're upset, you don't eat." House finally tore his eyes away from the monster truck rally and looked at Cuddy, who stared at him for a minute. His comment was almost sweet in that he knew her quirks and her habits. He was right, too. When she was upset or distracted, her appetite was the first thing to suffer.

"And we can't let those milk jugs shrink, can we?" he added. And that was when Cuddy rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

"House…"

"Oh, come on, just lay on your side. I'll lay on my side and we won't bother each other. I don't feel like dragging myself and my TV back to your guest room."

Cuddy was about to open her mouth to argue, but then a brilliant idea popped into her head. She groaned and sighed, to give House the idea that she was still annoyed with him. "Fine."

"Good," he said, patting the spot next to him again. Cuddy turned off the lights and climbed into her side of the bed because House was already sleeping on the side she normally occupied. She turned her back to him and snuggled up to a pillow.

"Good night," she said.

House didn't respond and Cuddy smiled to herself as she rested. She needed to wait at least thirty minutes to make her plan believable. She wanted House out of her bed and she knew that this was the best way to do it.

Half an hour passed and Cuddy hadn't moved a muscle. She heard House fumble around with the TV remote and then the room was silent. She knew he was still awake so this was the perfect time to act out her idea. She bit back a smile and then released a purr-like moan.

House furrowed his eyebrows in the dark and turned his head in Cuddy's direction. He knew that she was asleep because she had been perfectly still since the end of their conversation earlier. She was quiet for a few minutes so he shrugged and rested on his back. Sleep never came easily for him, even after taking some Vicodin. It would probably be another hour or so before he could find slumber, but he'd turned off the TV out of courtesy to Cuddy. Even if she was asleep, the sounds might wake her up and the last thing he wanted was a bitchy, sleep-deprived Cuddy on his back.

So he rested his hands on his stomach and tried to think of something boring that would put him to sleep. But then, she moaned again. And this time there was a little jerk on her side of the bed. House frowned again and immediately wondered what the hell she was dreaming about. And he kind of wanted her to just shut up because those sounds were sexy.

"Mm," Cuddy hummed again, trying her hardest not to laugh. She knew that House was going crazy trying to figure out what she could possibly be dreaming of. She shifted in her sleep, turning on her other side so that she was facing House. "Feels good," she said dreamily.

House's head shot up to the ceiling and he willed himself not to get turned on. But how he could not? The woman of his lusty affections was resting next to him, moaning like she was having sex! He bit his lip and tapped his hands on his stomach, trying to think of anything except Cuddy's groans.

"Mm," she whimpered, cuddling closer to House. His temperature rose about a hundred degrees and Cuddy could almost feel her shoulders shaking from the amount of effort she was exerting to keep from laughing.

"Cuddy," House finally whispered, deciding that it was better to wake her up than to get a woody from listening to her sleep.

"Wilson," she breathed.

House's eyes widened and his mouth flew open in outrage. Wilson!? She was having a sex dream about Wilson?! That was the last straw.

"Get up!" he yelled. Cuddy jerked up and tried to seem disoriented.

"What?" she asked sleepily.

"I'm going to the guest room," House grumbled, grabbing two of her pillows and hobbling out of the room. He slammed the door behind him and Cuddy covered her mouth and burst into laughter.

"Cuddy, one. House, zero," she chuckled to herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was seven o'clock when Cuddy turned off the lights in her office and locked the door behind her. For most people, working from seven in the morning until seven at night was too much, but for her, it was actually a good day. A deceptively quiet day at that. House had barely made his presence known to her throughout the day, and Cuddy assumed that it was because of her little stunt in bed from the previous night. She smiled to herself as she waved goodbye to the nurses on the night shift and headed out to the parking lot. She was quite proud of herself for having outsmarted Mr. Perceptive in her quest to get him out of her bed. Cuddy only wished that she could have seen his face when she whimpered "Wilson." The thought put a big old grin across her lips.

"Dr. Cuddy," a voice said behind her. She turned around and audibly groaned at the smirking policeman who had apparently been waiting for her to go to her car.

"Detective Tritter," she said dryly. "What can I do for you?"

"Going home without your husband, I see," he said with a smirk to his face. Cuddy rolled her eyes and hit the unlock button on her keys.

"We're not joined at the hip, you know."

"You're not even joined at the altar," Tritter said with unshakable confidence. He walked beside her and put his hand on the door, preventing her from opening it. "You and I both know that certificate is a fake," he whispered in her ear. Cuddy felt her flesh crawl and she looked at him and smiled.

"The judge seemed to think otherwise. The case is closed, Detective. I suggest you leave now before I have to make a claim of harassment."

Tritter smiled and backed off just enough for Cuddy to get into her car. He leaned down to the window and she could see his breath against the glass.

"The case is ongoing, Doctor. I would suggest you and Dr. House better be on your very best behavior."

Cuddy groaned in annoyance and then pulled away from him before he could say anything else to her. She had no idea what was meant by his little threat, but she wasn't impressed. Tritter had already proven that he could make quite the pest of himself, but Cuddy didn't know what was left for him. House's case was closed. Tritter just wanted to make them miserable. Again, she questioned her own sanity for getting involved in the first place.

"Hello," she called as she walked into her home. House didn't answer, and she hadn't seen his motorcycle out front, both of which made her happy. She needed a moment to just unwind, alone, especially after that weird encounter with Tritter. She wondered if the guys at the police department would believe her if she called and said that he was stalking her.

Cuddy did her after-work routine: she checked her messages, made some dinner, and unwound as she ate. There was still no word from House, so she figured that he might have decided to spend the night at his place, which was just fine with her. She put her dishes in the dishwasher and then went upstairs. Before she retired to her own room, though, she checked the guest bedroom to make sure House wasn't there. The room was empty, and much to her surprise, the bed was made. House wasn't the kind of guy who made the bed. But she shrugged and went to her room, tossing her suit jacket on the bed as she made her way to the bathroom. She ran some hot water, poured in some bubbles, and spent the next thirty minutes lounging in the tub.

When she got out, she dried off and slid into one of her favorite nighties. It was short and light pink and almost see-through. She would have normally not put on any underwear to go to bed, but with House possibly coming back, she didn't want to risk it. If she had to get up in the middle of the night to let him in or something, she didn't want to be panty-less. So she slipped on some panties and then climbed into bed. The house was quiet and still in the night, and Cuddy fell right to sleep.

…

Cuddy's eyes snapped open and she was groggy from awaking from the deep sleep she had been in. Her room was dark and she frowned and wondered what had brought her out of her sleep in the middle of the night. She felt something push into her side and she grimaced. Cuddy instinctively tried to grab the object, thinking that maybe she rolled over her remote control, but she quickly realized that she couldn't move her hands. Her heart froze and she craned her head up to try to look through the dark at what was restraining her hands above her hand. She struggled but she couldn't move. She tried to kick her legs and she realized that they, too, were bound. She was tied to her bed.

She gulped and her heart beat triple time. The worst possible scenarios swam through Cuddy's mind in those few seconds. Someone must have broken into her house and tied her up. She just knew that she was going to be raped, or worse, killed.

"Hello?" she asked in a shaky breath. She was so scared that she almost started crying. She could feel a presence next to her bed and she closed her eyes and started praying. Cuddy really didn't pray very often and she wasn't all that religious, but if there was any time to start asking for some help, this was it. She heard the light next to her click on, and she was almost afraid to open her eyes and look at her assailant. She felt the push into the side of her stomach again, and she very slowly looked down to see the rubber tip of an infuriatingly familiar cane. She whipped her eyes up to see House standing next to the bed, his intense blue eyes staring at her.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" she screamed. Cuddy's initial fear had melted into total outrage. Only House would do something this bizarre.

"Were you scared?" he smiled, like he had just pulled a good prank.

"Of course I was scared, you jackass!" she yelled, thrashing about on the bed but still unable to move. House looked pleased with himself as he took a seat in the chair across from Cuddy's bed. She looked at him with large, angry eyes, and she craned her neck up so he could see the fury on her face.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"I don't think so," he said casually, as if there were some everyday occurrence. "You look kind of sexy all spread-eagle like that."

Cuddy pounded her head against the pillow behind her, and she thanked her lucky stars that she had put on panties…otherwise, House would have been getting an eyeful of her goods. Her arms and legs were tied to the iron posts at the head and foot of the bed, respectively, and her body looked like a big letter 'X.'

"House," she said lowly. "If you don't let me go, I'll scream bloody murder."

"Nah, you won't do that," he said confidently. He popped a Vicodin and smiled. "Because then I'd have to tape your mouth shut."

"What do you hope to accomplish by tying me up to the bed?"

"Payback," House said simply, with a shrug. "For that little prank you pulled last night."

"What are you talking about?" Cuddy grumbled. She closed her eyes again and hoped that she would wake up and this would all be a very bad dream.

"You, calling for Wilson," House reminded. "At first, I thought you really were having a sex dream about him. But as soon as I was out the door, I heard your wicked little giggling and I knew it was all a ploy to get me out."

Cuddy groaned loudly and she shook her head. House was certifiable: the man was completely insane.

"Yes, I was faking. You win. Now can I go?"

"Nope, because now you've intrigued me." House had that tone in his voice that he always got when he was about to solve a puzzle. Cuddy hated being a part of his one-minded obsessions. It never ended well for her.

"What do you want?" she asked, her tone expressing her defeat. House had tied her up quite well and there was no way she could get out. She would just have to do what he wanted and cooperate.

"I want to know what _really_ turns you on. Since I _know_ it's not Wilson."

"What do you want me to say, House? That you turn me on? That I stay up at night touching myself and thinking about you and your big cane?" Cuddy asked sarcastically. She didn't look at him but she could almost hear him smiling.

"Nope. I just have some questions for you. After you answer them honestly, then you can be released."

"I have work tomorrow," Cuddy reminded him. "Because unlike you, I actually get up in the morning, do my job, and keep the hospital in order. I hope you don't plan on playing with me all night."

"How long this takes is up to you, Cuddy," he said calmly. He sat back in his chair, getting a good look up her nightgown at the cute panties she wore. "Are you ready to play?"

She sighed in response, and House took that as a 'yes.'

"All right. Question number one: what's your favorite position?"

"Missionary," Cuddy answered with a dry, annoyed tone. House seemed to mull that answer over but he didn't accept it.

"Try again."

"You asked, I answered. I'm sorry if it bores you."

"You're lying," House told her. "A girl like you doesn't want something as plain as missionary." House stood up from his chair and used his cane to walk to the side of Cuddy's bed. She refused to look at him and she nearly jumped off the bed when his hand landed on her exposed thigh. "A bitchy little woman like you needs something much more interesting. On top maybe?"

House looked at her face, which was red, and he didn't know if it was from lust or anger. He assumed it was probably a mixture of both. "Or do you like to be dominated? Big bad Lisa Cuddy, who micromanages everything in her life, likes to be dominated in bed." House liked the way that scenario sounded in his head and he immediately had some naughty images in his head of screwing his boss like she had been a bad girl.

"So which is it, Cuddy?" he asked, careening his hand over her thigh. She gritted her teeth and glared at him. House loved when she got that angry look on her face. It was so damn sexy. He smiled at her and clicked his teeth. "Doggy style," he surmised. The way that she looked away from him confirmed his answer and House grinned.

"You dirty little girl," House said with a certain level of triumph in his voice.

"Get your hand off me," Cuddy responded, her voice dripping with venom. He acquiesced by taking his hands off, but then he sat next to her.

"Question two: tell me your fantasies."

"That's not a question."

"Fine. Tell me anyway."

"No! This is ridiculous! You take sexual harassment to a whole new level, House! It's one thing to ogle me at work and make comments about our imaginary sex life, but it's quite another to tie me up in the middle of the night and dig into my personal thoughts!" She narrowed her eyes at him and wondered if she could rip out of her restraints and murder him. "When I get out of this bed, I am going to kill you," she promised in a low voice.

"That's all good and well, but I want to know what you fantasize about. Besides getting pounded like a dog in heat."

Cuddy screamed…literally screamed, like she was going to rip her hair out. House waited patiently for her to get over her anxiety, and when she shut up, he rested his hand on his lap.

"Okay, maybe I am being unfair."

"You think?" she yelled.

"I'll tell you my fantasy first."

"Gee, great," Cuddy said sarcastically.

House kicked off his shoes and dropped his cane to the floor. He rested his body next to Cuddy's, resting his head on her shoulder and curling up to her like a baby. She rolled her eyes and moved her head away from him because it was the only part of her body she still had control over.

"My fantasy would be for you to come into my office," he said, his deep voice resonating against her body. "Yelling at me, like usual. But then instead of stomping out with your little heels on and shaking that ass in such a tantalizing way, you come over to me and grab me by the shirt and pull me down and kiss me. And then you give me a strip show, right in front of the team." House craned his head up to look at her and smiled like a devious child. "They'd all be so jealous. Especially Cameron. She might even cry."

"No wonder they call them fantasies," Cuddy responded with a fake smile. "Because _that_ will never happen."

"I can dream," House said, resting his head on her shoulder again. "Your turn."

"House," she begged. "Please stop this. You need to be checked into a mental institution."

"I only have one more question after this. So answer this one and that one and I'll let you go."

Cuddy briefly closed her eyes again and sighed. "Fine." She opened her mouth to say something totally made-up, but she knew that House would recognize that she was lying. So she licked her lip and decided to play House's game. If she couldn't become untied, then she might as well screw with his head. She, unlike most people, knew how to get under his skin because she had her sexuality on her side. Knowing that House was attracted to her could be used to her advantage sometimes.

"I have this fantasy," she said in a purposely low voice that she knew would turn House on. "That I'm a virgin. And I need someone to teach me everything about sex." Cuddy could practically hear House gulp as she spoke slowly and in her sexiest voice. "But you would have to be gentle," she whispered. "Since it's my first time and all."

She smiled when House shifted a little bit, and she knew she was getting to him. She may have been tied up, but she had also regained control of the situation with that little number.

House kept his head on her shoulder and he spent a few minutes picturing Cuddy acting like a virginal little girl and wearing a school girl outfit. He closed his eyes and pictured her bent over his knee, where he'd give her a little spank before proceeding to teach her everything she needed to know about pleasing a man.

"House," she whispered.

"What?" he answered suddenly. He had shifted his body so Cuddy couldn't see or feel just how much he had appreciated her fantasy. He looked up at her and saw the hint of a smile on her lips. He narrowed his eyes at her. She was playing him. That conniving little wench. Cuddy knew how to use her goods to cloud his brain, but he was the one in control here. And he was ready to take it back.

"Okay, last question."

"Yes?" Cuddy asked, clearly happy with herself. Her smiled started to fade a bit as he brought his lips just an inch away from hers and he stared into her eyes.

"Do I turn you on?" he asked lowly.

Cuddy wanted to say 'no' immediately, but somehow the word got caught in her throat. House was way too close and his scent was assaulting her senses. House may have looked unkempt most of the time, with his uncombed hair, his unshaved beard, and his wrinkled clothes. But Cuddy could tell from the way he smelled that he was quite clean. He always had this scent about him, a scent that she attributed to his soap and cologne. It was a fresh fragrance, manly and spicy and utterly House.

He stared at her with that look of intensity that always made Cuddy falter just a bit. He had no idea how incredibly sexy he was, which was probably a good thing considering his already uncontrollable ego. House placed his hand on her thigh again and lowered his head to the space between her neck and shoulder, and he took a long inhale and breathed her in. Cuddy's eyes fluttered shut and she tried to fight the shiver that attacked her spine, but it was too late. House had already felt it. He smiled against her skin and then abruptly sat up.

"That's what I thought," he told her in that arrogant tone that made Cuddy want to strangle him. She opened her mouth to debate him and to deny that she was attracted to him, but she stopped when he reached above her head and undid her restraints. She pulled her arms down, happy to get some circulation back into them, and House picked up his cane. He walked to the door and right before he left, he looked over his shoulder, he smiled.

"Nice nippies."

Cuddy looked down and realized that her hard nipples were poking through her night gown, yet another sign that his proximity had turned her on. She frowned and covered her chest and he grinned as he walked out. She undid her legs and then fell back onto the bed and sighed.

They were tied in their little game now, and Cuddy wondered how long it would go on.


End file.
